


Declarations of love...and tumours

by TooManyChoices



Series: Sherlock and the Thames [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bubbles..so many bubbles, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, NOTE: There is no tumours...it's all fine, Sherlock's been back in the Thames again, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock ends up back in the Thames (again), John considers their ongoing unconventional relationship. Sudsy shower scenes, and deep and meaningful conversations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations of love...and tumours

The smell was faint but unmistakable as John approached the front door of 221B Baker Street, "Seriously Sherlock, the Thames...again?"

"It isn't as if I intended to fall in, John. At least Mycroft didn't see it and call in the cavalry, this time."

"No, instead you.....actually, how did you get home?"

"I stopped at a homeless shelter. They seemed very enthusiastic to see me on my way for the price of tube fare."

"You went on the tube, like that?" The 'that' John was referring to was a dripping wet and stinking consulting detective. The only one in...and at the moment, John was very pleased of it...the world.

"It seems my tenuous relationship with cab drivers is becoming ever more strained."

"Where's your coat?" Sherlock's trademark Belstaff was nowhere to be seen.

"If my tide calculations are correct, I suspect it's just passing Richmond bridge."

"So......gone."

"It appears so."

"Which also explains why you're sitting on the front step....keys?"

"In the coat, and Mrs Hudson appears to not be home."

John shook his head wearily, but with a sly smile. "Come on then, you know the drill. Strip off in the front hallway and I'll run the shower."

This was the fourth... _no, fifth_...time Sherlock had taken a dip this year and although it was a source of great amusement to the team at Scotland Yard, John thought they'd find it  far more amusing to know that the residents of Baker Street had somehow integrated Sherlock's irregular swimming habits into a very unconventional cycle of foreplay and sex.

Not that John should have been surprised. Nothing Sherlock ever did could be described as truly normal, so when they'd finally crossed the line from friends to lovers, it made an odd sort of sense that Sherlock's sexuality.. _if it could be called that._...would turn out to be neither quantifiable nor predictable.

Instead, John walked a tightrope of seduction. Any attempt at casual affection was fraught with risk. There was no predicting whether an advance would be rudely rebuffed, leaving John emotionally smarting and sexually frustrated, or energetically accepted, resulting in overturned furniture, aching muscles and bruises that took days to fade.

Sherlock seemed to have no pattern to his libido, and no rulebook to his desire. In any other partner it would have driven John mad, but with Sherlock, being kept just on the edge of the unknown gave him something to chase, something to fight and the conquests were that much sweeter as a result.

The only constant in their sex life seemed to be the thing that had begun it all. If Sherlock had been in the water, John was pretty much on a sure bet and as he followed Sherlock's pert, naked arse as it sashayed up the stairs to their flat, he thanked the heavens for that.

@@@@

"Down." John ordered, standing next to Sherlock in the shower surrounded by steam and suds.

Sherlock obediently bent his head for John to lather the foam, the taller man groaning in delight as John's fingers twined amongst the wet curls and massaged his scalp.

"I really wish I could do this to you at Scotland Yard and watch everyone's face when you made that noise, it's the sexiest fucking sound on the planet."

Sherlock met John's eyes under a grid-work of wet curls, "I suspect there may be more than idle talk if you did." Sherlock rested his hands on John's hips and brought their groins together, cocks rubbing amongst the slippery lather that cascaded down Sherlock's body.

"And would that bother you? If they knew?" John's hands roamed across the pale expanse of Sherlock's unblemished skin.

"Knew what? That 'I'm not gay' John Watson might be 'on the turn'. Surely it's you that would be bothered." Sherlock rand his hands along John's shoulders and down his arms, smoothing fingertips along the defined muscles.

John shrugged, his hands full of shampoo and detective, "A label doesn't change a thing. To be fair, I'm not gay. But as I think we both know now, I'm clearly not straight either."

Sherlock ground their erections together again, "Clearly."

"So, to answer your question, no, it wouldn't bother me. Most of them think we've been shagging for years, so it wouldn't make much difference. But what about you, what we have isn't really..... in any rulebook."

Sherlock made a dismissive noise, "Rules are for children John, rules make people normal."

"We're certainly not normal." John giggled as he reached up to place a wet kiss on Sherlock's lips, forcing his head under the spray. They both coughed and choked through a nose full of water."

Sherlock's large hands moved to cup John's arse, thumbs along the crease and pulled their pelvises together again , "Bed, before one of us drowns", he rumbled deep and gruff.

@@@@

Two hours later, sated and relaxed and clean after yet another shower, they lay entwined on Sherlock's large bed.

"So, seriously...you want to do this?"

"I thought we had just done that?" Sherlock lay staring at the ceiling, cocooned in the warmth and basking in the afterglow of some spectacular sex.

"No...idiot." John nudged a pointed finger into a particularly sensitive spot between Sherlock's ribs, and revelling in the spasmodic flinch away that resulted, "Tell people...about us?"

Sherlock sighed, and levered himself up onto his elbows to look down at John next to him, "John, I want whatever you think is best. I'd say it doesn't matter to me, but in truth, it matters to you, so it does matter to me. I couldn't understand why you put up with me three years ago, and it's as much of a mystery to me now. Why you'd want to be associated with me as my 'partner' is equally incomprehensible. But if you want it, I'm OK with it."

John looked bewildered, "Wow....just....wow."

A look of concern flashed across Sherlock's face, "What?....Not good."

"No...it's....good...it's....hang on.....Did you just say you want a relationship with me."

"Don't be an idiot, John. We're already in a relationship."

"Yes......" John relied slowly, "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Of course we are. By any commonly accepted definition; Living together, splitting bills, sex, arguing about brands of jam. Definitely a relationship."

John wondered if he could push for more...... _into battle Captain_..."And love?"

Sherlock blinked at him slowly, a slight frown creasing his forehead and John wondered if he'd pushed too far until Sherlock quietly replied, "Isn't that obvious?"

"Not to me."

"It should be." Sherlock bent to capture John's lips, gently at first, teasingly, and then more forcefully. "Let me make myself clear. If this isn't love John Watson, then the only other condition that fits my symptoms is a massive neurological defect, likely a tumour...probably fatal. And as I ruled that out some months ago through a series of rather invasive tests, I can say with 98.6% probability that...I love you."

"Oh."

Sherlock nuzzled at John's neck, nibbling at the fresh bruises he'd left there earlier in the day, "So....do you think you have a tumour?"

John chuckled at Sherlock's words, understanding the question underneath the very typical Sherlock words, "No.....I don't think I have a tumour either Sherlock."

"Good. That's very good, John."


End file.
